


Blood Flowers

by Akiko_Natsuko



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong, Promises, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 00:36:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21244616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: 'There was silence on the other end, and for a moment he thought that she had already gone, and there was a pang at the thought that she hadn’t even said goodbye. Then there was a flurry of voices, and then Lúcio was on the communicator, voice fierce in a way that Reinhardt had never heard before, breath catching at the sound. “I’m coming back for you, hold on.”“No, Don’t…” There was beeping, the line cut at the other end and suddenly Reinhardt couldn’t breathe at all, because Lúcio was coming for him. He had heard the determination in the medic’s voice, the stubbornness that reminded him painfully of how he had been when he was younger, and he knew that nothing and no one would be able to deter Lúcio from that path. He’s coming, straight into danger because of me. Fire. There was an inferno in his chest, a blaze that couldn’t be contained and he might have fallen then, but for the knowledge that Lúcio was coming for him. 'The flowers had been blooming for months now, and Reinhardt had thought that was how it was going to end until a mission goes wrong.





	Blood Flowers

The seats outside the infirmary had never been built with a man his size in mind, and bizarrely Reinhardt found some comfort in the fact that he still had to perch himself uncomfortably between two of them. It was one less thing that had changed, and right now he needed a point of familiarity no matter how tenuous, and his fingers curled around the edge of the hard, plastic seating. It was almost enough to transport him back to another time and place. _Almost._ Because the last time he had been in this position had been after the mission where Ana had ‘died’ and he had been sat out here, waiting to hear about all the agents, and waiting for Jack to come out and tell him it was a lie or a mistake, remembering the anger and grief that had consumed him when Jack had slipped out from between those doors.

_That’s not going to happen this time._

He had to believe that because he honestly wasn’t sure what he was going to do if he was wrong, and he buried his head in his hands, realising for the first time that he was shaking. Trembling so hard, that it felt as though he might just fall apart beneath the force of it. It wasn’t the fact that one of his teammates, his friends were in the infirmary, or even that they were clinging to life by a thread, it had taken him a long time to learn that he couldn’t shield them from everything. He might not like it, and he might push himself too far to be the shield he wanted to be, the one that he had vowed to be that fateful day in Eichenwalde. No, it was the fact that this time he should have been the one lying in that room, or worse, and that he wasn’t because…because…

_“Go,” Reinhardt growled into the communicator, catching the tail end of the furious discussion going on at the other end. In the past, it would never have been considered, but these were different times, and with Overwatch stretched so thin they couldn’t risk more lives just to save one, especially not his. He had answered the recall, ignoring Brigitte’s pleading for him not to throw himself back into this situation, and he had known from the moment that he had reached the Watchpoint that he belonged to a different time. A different Overwatch. It was why he was calm now, even as he pressed a hand to the deep laceration in his side in an attempt to stifle the bleeding. “You can’t get back to me without fighting your way through them again, and the payload is more important.” _

_“Reinhardt…”_

_“Ana,” he cut off her protest, somewhat touched that she would still consider risking everything, but not willing to let her go further. “You know I’m right.” He hurt, aching in places that shouldn’t be allowed to ache, and he knew that it wasn’t all due to the injuries he’d sustained today. Some of it was older, deeper, a lifetime of fighting catching up with him at the worst possible time. Still, he could have pushed through it. Would have pushed through it, but his armour was lifeless around him, the same blast that had left the booster at the back a smoking ruin having caught something more vital on its way out, and he knew that he was lucky it hadn’t gone straight through him. Still, it meant that he had been reduced to an almost glacial pace, an old man in heavy armour, and he grasped his hammer tightly, hearing footsteps beginning to move back towards him. “Go now, get the rest of the team home._

_ Brigitte would never forgive him for going out like this, especially on a mission that she hadn’t been able to accompany him on, but he was content with this end as long as the others made it to safety. As long as **he** made it to safety, the thought crept in unbidden, bringing with it a familiar ache in the depths of his chest, one that swelled until each breath burned, and he cursed under his breath, pressing his free hand against it. Soon, he promised the blooms that had taken root months ago, almost able to feel them curling tighter around his lungs with that thought, coughing, and fighting to catch his breath. “Ana…go…”_

_ There was silence of the other end, and for a moment he thought that she had already gone, and there was a pang at the thought that she hadn’t even said goodbye. Then there was a flurry of voices, and then Lúcio was on the communicator, voice fierce in a way that Reinhardt had never heard before, breath catching at the sound. “I’m coming back for you, hold on.”_

_“No, Don’t…” There was beeping, the line cut at the other end and suddenly Reinhardt couldn’t breathe at all, because Lúcio was coming for him. He had heard the determination in the medic’s voice, the stubbornness that reminded him painfully of how he had been when he was younger, and he knew that nothing and no one would be able to deter Lúcio from that path. He’s coming, straight into danger because of me. Fire. There was an inferno in his chest, a blaze that couldn’t be contained and he might have fallen then, but for the knowledge that Lúcio was coming for him. _

_Coming…for him…_

Lúcio. Bright, wonderful Lúcio. Reinhardt took a deep, staggering breath, wishing that he could revel in the feeling of being able to breathe properly for the first time in months, and the knowledge that the deadly blooms were withering away even as he sat here waiting. Would they come back if Lúcio didn’t make it? He didn’t know the answer to that, and if he was honest, he wasn’t sure what he wanted the answer to be, because if Lúcio died because of him then he might just welcome those flowers.

“Has there been any news?” He jolted violently at the quiet voice, so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard the quiet footsteps approaching, and the chairs creaked ominously beneath him as he found himself staring at an exhausted, dishevelled Hana. He must’ve waited too long to answer, because she paled, the scrapes and bruises from the fight standing out even more vividly. “…is he?”

“I haven’t heard anything.” There was a lingering ache in his chest, the flowers legacy still there as he spoke, the truth brutal in its simplicity. _I don’t know anything. _“But that means Angela is still with him and that he is still with us.” It wasn’t fair that he could find the words to comfort her but not himself, for even as she seemed to brighten a little at his words, he felt hollow. He wanted to believe what he was saying. He wanted to trust in Angela and her skills just as he had so many times over the year, but there was a flicker of uncertainty that couldn’t be silenced. At least not by anything less than seeing Lúcio with his own eyes.

“He was never going to leave you behind,” Hana said, and Reinhardt blinked as she moved to sit next to him, not sure what to say or do as she reached out to pat his arm. “You should have seen his face when you told us to leave you behind.” There was a fire in her voice now. The steel of a soldier who wasn’t willing to leave anyone behind, and beneath it all, fragile glass, the splintering that came when you were forced to realise that you couldn’t save everyone. He remembered that feeling all too well, fighting the urge to lift a hand to his eye.

“I…”

“I know why you did it,” Hana cut across him, eyes too hard and too bright. It was the same expression he had seen on Lúcio’s face the first time they had encountered Vishkar in the field, a sobering reminder that for all that Overwatch had achieved, it hadn’t protected them from the world that he, Ana and the rest of the Strike Team had wanted to change. “So, did Lúcio. But…”

“He came after me anyway.”

_There was blood in his mouth now, and he wasn’t sure whether it was from his injuries, or the flowers curling tighter and tighter around his lungs. Every breath, every movement hurt, as he ducked clumsily out of the path of a burst of gunfire, before launching his hammer into the Talon Agent, sending the man crashing through the opposite wall. He staggered towards him, his armour little more than deadweight now, and his injuries slowing him with each second, and he wanted nothing more than to stop. To lean against the wall. To fall to his knees and wait for the inevitable, but he couldn’t._

_Lúcio was coming._

_ Fresh gunfire raked the shoulder of his armour, the contact bruising and almost enough to send him toppling forward as he reached for the hammer. His fingers had barely managed to curl around the tip of the handle when he caught two sounds. One, the drumbeat of approaching soldiers, heavy boots pounding out the soundtrack to his death on the rubble, and beyond that, fainter, the familiar_, _pulsing beats of Lúcio’s music._

_ The roar that rose in Reinhardt’s chest was louder than he’d intended, fury and desperation tangling together because he didn’t want to die here. Not like this, but he had accepted it. A part of him had even welcomed it, aware of what the flower was doing to him. But not while risking another’s life, especially not Lúcio’s, and his armour flickered, trying to come back to life as he whirled around with the hammer firmly in his grip now as the first of the reinforcements rounded the corner. His first swing taking two of them out of the fight before they could even fire their weapons at him, and his voice dropped to a low growl as he lifted the hammer to protect his face from the first onslaught. “Come here…” _

_There. _

_ A slight pause, whether for reloading or taking stock of the fact that there was no team waiting for them, but a tired, old Crusader now with everything to lose. He didn’t care as he lumbered forward, the armour a weight he couldn’t escape as he lay into them, swinging wildly. This wasn’t about winning, or skill, it was about protecting the one who had come back for him, because he could hear the music coming closer, heart racing, and the flowers spreading with it. _

_“Reinhardt!” Reinhardt had just smashed another Talon Agent up into the roof, when Lúcio’s voice rang out, and he turned around, ignoring the pain in his chest that spiked as he saw the medic leap up, skating over another agent’s head, and taking them out with a well-aimed shot as he passed over their head. Then he was landing and skating towards Reinhardt, eyes taking in the damage, his expression darkening as he took in the damaged side and the blood visible against the metal, and as soon as he was within range, the music shifted and Reinhardt could feel it beginning to soften the edges of his pain._

_“Lúcio…”He murmured, almost losing himself in the relief before he shook his head. “You shouldn’t have come back.” Not for me…_

_“As if you wouldn’t have done the same,” Lúcio retorted, ducking to the side and firing a flurry of blasts at the Talon agents who were gathering themselves for another push. “Can you move?”_

_“Not fast,” Reinhardt admitted, defeated as he gestured at his lifeless armour._

_“I can help with that,” Lúcio grinned, but it was strained around the edges. Not the easy-going expression that Reinhardt had come to love, and it wasn’t only just the admission, privately of course of his feelings that made his heart twist painfully in the grip of the flowers. Because that expression was there because of him. “Come on, we need to go,” he added more urgently, one hand on Reinhardt’s as he fired towards the sound of movement, unaware of how the simple touch had Reinhardt fighting back a cough. Then the music that had been soothing the edges of the sharp pain from his injuries shifted, the beat picking up, and it was all that Reinhardt could do to follow Lúcio as the medic moved away from the approaching agents. _

_ He was faster like this, but nothing compared to his usual speed and he knew that it wasn’t going to be enough, and yet he couldn't bring himself to say it when he glanced down at Lúcio and saw the fierce expression on his face. It wasn’t that the other man was blind to the situation, it was that he was focused on changing it. They really were far too similar, Reinhardt thought, remembering back to a time when he had been the same, and wondering when that had changed._

_When Overwatch took everything from you… _

_ He wasn’t sure if it was himself, or Brigitte behind that thought, but he pushed it aside and focused on Lúcio because if Overwatch had taken everything it had also given it back. It had given him a purpose once more, a family…and it had given him Lúcio, and even as the pain in his chest deepened, he knew that he wouldn’t have changed that for the world._

_“We’re on our way.” It took him a moment to realise that Lúcio was on the communicator, and he winced as even from here he could hear the sharpness in Ana’s tone, and he wondered if Lúcio knew how much trouble he was going to be in for this. “Ana you can scold me later.” Apparently, he realised because he was grimacing and glancing back at Reinhardt and rolling his eyes, earning a small smile that the Crusader hadn’t been able to hold back. “Just get ready for take-off, because they’re close on…” Reinhardt doubted that he would ever forget the way Lúcio’s expression had shifted in that split second, the exasperation and focus, becoming horror and fear, and then sheer determination as he moved._

_ The first volley of gunfire struck Reinhardt as he turned, trying to see what the new threat was, the armour bearing the brunt of it, although he grunted as he staggered under the onslaught. Then he saw the red dots, shifting to match his change in position and this time there was none of the calm acceptance he had felt earlier, as everything in his chest twisted until he felt as though he couldn’t breathe even as he bellowed._

_“LÚCIO! DON’T!!”_

_ It was too late. Yet it seemed to take an eternity between the words leaving his lips and his vision filling with green and red, the sharp retort of gunfire lost in the roaring that filled his ears as Lúcio cried out in pain._


End file.
